Abhorrence
by Frenchie-chan
Summary: Ed's voice spluttered and died within his throat. Al's tangled hair had shifted, throwing his face into sharp relief. He felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. This person... this...thing was not his little brother! It couldn't be...
1. Chapter 1

**Out of all the fics I've written, this one is my favorite. (And trust me, I've written a LOT of fics. I only post the good ones.) It is a FullMetal Alchemist fic, but you can definetly see some Phantomy references in it, too. The idea for this fic has been floating around in my head for quite some time, and the Plot Bunny made me write it down. So... Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: (sigh) Not mine...**

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Abhorrence

_The human soul is indestructible. Our bodily forms come from dust before our birth, and after our death return to dust. This is all one great cycle. While the body can be killed, destroyed, burned, crushed, stabbed, and damaged beyond all repair, one's soul will always remain intact. However, although with the promise of always being whole, the soul can be a dangerous, and sometimes deadly, thing to behold. Any attempt to make, transmute, or artificially create a soul is disastrous. If one even survives an attempt to create a human soul, or 'Play God' as it were, that person would never have the opportunity to live an even somewhat normal life from that point until their death. This is alchemy's ultimate taboo, known as 'Human Transmutation'. Few have attempted it, and even fewer have survived it. The effects of Human Transmutation are so horrendous that, even if one survives, one can never be the same person they were before the transmutation. No one can transmute a soul without being permanently scarred, a fact people often discover has more that one meaning. Yet, in the midst of the horror and turmoil of Human Transmutation, there is one object that can reverse the effects of this forbidden alchemy. It is extremely rare, and almost impossible to obtain, but is the only known substance with the ability to gain without exchange, to create without sacrifice, to make right what was once wrong. The Philosopher's Stone._

"Brother?"

"Hmm?"

Alphonse fidgeted. As odd as it is to see a seven-foot-two suit of armor fidget, Alphonse squirmed and twitched uneasily. If he had palms, they would be sweating. Every time Alphonse shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, the armor would creak slightly. Edward, Alphonse's older brother by one year, looked up. He was just finishing up the immensely complex alchemy array, adding the last-minute details.

"What is it, Al?"

"Well, um…"

Alphonse hemmed and hawed, not really knowing how to put what he was thinking into words. He stuttered and fidgeted some more, Edward's brilliantly golden gaze never leaving him.

"Alphonse, spit it out."

Alphonse gave up. He knew that something serious was being discussed when Edward used his full name. He sighed. His older brother could see straight through anyone.

"Brother, don't do it."

"Oh, if tha- _what?"_

Alphonse sighed. This wasn't going the way he had intended. He almost started reasoning with his brother, but Edward cut him off again.

"Al, we have to! Don't you realize how important this is? We've been trying to do this for... how many years has it been now? Five? Six? I can't even remember, it's been so long! This is it! This is our chance to put you back in the flesh again! I don't see how you can even suggest-"

"BROTHER!" Alphonse shouted, his voice echoing noisily in the armor. "It…It's just that, I've got this bad feeling about it. You know how you can tell if something bad is going to happen? Well, that's how I feel now! What if something goes wrong? What if we wind up worse than we are right now? Brother, _please_ don't do it…"

Alphonse's voice began to tremble, giving away his fright. Edward's eyebrows rose, and his golden eyes bore intensely into the glowing red orbs in Alphonse's helmet. Edward exhaled through his nose, his fingertips raised to his temples.

"That's a lot of 'ifs' Al…" He murmured, almost to himself. He stared pointedly at nothing in particular for a few seconds before squaring his shoulders and, with a faint smile, gazed up at Alphonse and said, "Are you ready to be human again?"

Alphonse began to protest, but Edward held up a hand to silence him. "I know what you'll say," Edward said softly to his slightly taken aback brother. "And you're probably right, this may not work exactly the way we intended. But, you have to think, if we don't do this, we'll regret it for the rest of our days. We'll always look back and say "I wish we had just taken the risk," And if we fail, then we fail, and there's nothing anyone can do about it! We'll never know what the outcome will be unless we try! But, if you ask me, the advantages far outweigh the risks involved…" Edward trailed off, again gazing absent-mindedly at nothing. Without averting his gaze, Edward reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red stone, no larger than a walnut. A faint glow seemed to dance and swirl around the stone, a diminutive glimpse of the sheer alchemic power that lay within it. Edward silently placed it on the array, which seemed to shimmer for a brief moment with alchemic energy from contact with such a powerful artifact. His eyes shifted slightly before he whispered, "You ready?"

Alphonse nodded, slightly surprised at Edward's sudden speech. He walked to the center of the array, while Edward took his place at the front. As Edward placed his hands on the circle, Alphonse said slowly "Brother?"

Edward glanced up, gazing through his long bangs at his younger brother. "Hmm?"

Alphonse hesitated. "I…I love you, Brother."

Edward froze for a fraction of a second before smiling warmly and replying, "I love you too, you sap," For a second the two just gazed at each other before Edward clapped his hands and placed them on the alchemy array.

Instantaneously, the air in the room seemed to thicken, and the pressure began to fluctuate. The immense amount of energy swirled like a whirlpool and towered up to the ceiling, enveloping Alphonse in its blinding glow. Alphonse gasped, a sound left unheard by the deafening roar of the transmutation. Edward had performed more transmutations than he cared to count, but transmuting his own brother was totally different, almost inhuman. He had always imagined it to be simple, easy, like a regular transmutation. Transmuting a human soul was nothing like transmuting inanimate matter. The energy running through Edward, through the array, and into Alphonse began to roar louder, growing taller and broader, and swirling so fast it began to make him feel slightly nauseated. The vast energy was making it near impossible for Edward to draw breath, and it took all of his strength to keep the energy flowing, but nothing seemed to be going wrong-yet.

Edward glanced up at the towering vortex of energy before him. He grinned in a slightly maniacal fashion. It was working! Alphonse would be human again in no time! He couldn't wait to see his little brother in the flesh again, to see him smile and laugh, not having to hear the dreadful creak of the armor, and to hear Alphonse's voice without the hollow, metallic echo. Edward remembered the days of their childhood, before they joined the military, before they tried to resurrect their mother. Oh, how young, innocent, and carefree they had been! Back when they had gotten in time-out for nosing in their father's study, played hide-and-seek near the river, and gotten into squabbles over who would marry Winry. They had been so childish and worry-free, without a care in the world. But this was a different time, another chapter in their lives. Edward had long since lost the innocent, juvenile sparkle in his eyes, and was replaced by the fiery, determined stare that made his golden orbs appear so intense. Both brothers were mature beyond their years, prodigies in the combination of science and art of alchemy. With a demoralizing pang, Edward recalled their first attempt at human transmutation. He and Alphonse had planned and practiced and perfected their alchemy skills for years before attempting the forbidden transmutation. The death of their mother had left them lost and dejected; Alphonse had sunk into a deep depression while Edward had worked out a plan to resurrect their mother. Not one of their father's books on alchemy had described exactly what would happen if one attempted human transmutation, only said that it was forbidden. Ha! As if a 'forbidden' label could stop the great Edward Elric! He and his brother had done the unthinkable, had committed the ultimate sin; and had paid dearly for it. Edward shuddered as he remembered the wonderfully golden whirl of energy disappear, to be replaced by the warped, twisted force with the sickly, purple hue.

As quickly as it had materialized the first time, Edward realized that he wasn't simply imagining the sickly violet energy anymore. The whirlpool before him had lost its warm, exuberant glow, to be replaced with the violent dark purple vortex. Edward had seen this dark energy only once before, and it had been the biggest mistake he had, or would ever make, in all his years of existence. This sickening hue meant more than a fluked transmutation; it meant that something dire was inevitable.

"AL!" Edward shouted, instantly removing his hands from the transmutation circle in a vain attempt to stop the energy. "ALPHONSE! AL, NO!" It was no use; what was done was done, and the transmutation was going to continue until it had either restored Alphonse's body, or killed him in the process. Edward thought for a second that he heard a faint _"Brother!" _before the dark energy increased even more so, if possible, and the deafening roar pounding on his eardrums, the air racing with the vortex, making shelves topple over and old books flip their pages. Edward had never felt so helpless, more than he did when he was in recovery after receiving his automail limbs, more than he did after failing to rescue Nina, even more than when he had transmuted his mother… He circled the rapidly swirling energy, calling Alphonse's name, fighting the urge to leap into the fray. The dark energy swirled faster and faster, the wind whistled in his ears, making Edward choke against the force of the air. Suddenly, the sound in the room died. The room was totally silent for a fraction of a second before the vortex burst and everything went dazzling white. Edward knew no more.

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**Ooooh, cliffie!! What's happened?! What did Edward do?! Is dearest Alphonse okay?! Will everything go as planed?! (...that's a stupid question...) Find out in Chappie two!!**

**Purrs,**

**Frenchie-chan**


	2. Chapter 2

** Howdy! Welcome to chapter two of 'Abhorrence'! Usually, I would ramble on about cheesecake and the Plot Bunny, but I think today we'll just cut to the chase. Enjoy!**

**Diclaimer: Not Mine.**

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_ Equivalent Exchange is a strange thing, you see. In the Elric brothers' first attempt at human transmutation, the warped, deformed thing they received in return for Alphonse's body and Edward's right arm and left leg was nowhere near equivalent. Artificially creating a human soul goes against all laws of time and space, but then again, the Elrics were renowned for defying the laws of time and space every now and then._

Edward stirred feebly. He knew nothing; who he was, where he was, and why he was there were all lost on him. His eyes fluttered open; he gazed through his lashes, straining to focus on…the ceiling. He stared bemusedly at the dull gray ceiling for a few seconds before everything came flooding back to him. The transmutation, the warm, welcoming golden glow, the excitement of seeing Alphonse in the flesh again, and then… that cursed, violently purple hue…Alphonse's screams…the vivid white supernova…and then…oh,no…

Edward sat up, sharp pain shooting up his spine. He winced, sucking in an acute breath and gritting his teeth. He gingerly rose to his feet, stretching his sore muscles. Every time he put weight on his right foot, a sharp pain exploded in his ankle, making him gasp. It was swollen and bruised, Edward guessed it was sprained. He coughed; his throat dry and parched. A heavy mist lingered in room like fog, giving it an eerie, musty air.

"Al?" Edward called quietly into the ghostly fog. "Alphonse?" The mist continued to linger in the air, preventing Edward from seeing very far. "Al? Al, are you here?" As Edward limped warily to the center of the array, the mist began to clear. He could make out bits and pieces of Alphonse's armor littering the circle. It appeared to have violently burst in the transmutation. Edward noticed Alphonse's helmet among the charred remnants on the floor. He stooped slightly to pick it up. The long feather on top was singed and soot covered the menacing face. The normal reddish glow behind the eyeholes was absent. Nothing but cold, empty blackness stared back at him now. _"Oh, God…" _Edward thought. Had he left his brother in even worse shape than before?

A feeble rustling made Edward drop the helmet with a loud, reverberating clang. He turned around, frantically trying to pinpoint the location of the sound. Edward's eyes flickered over the charred remains of the armor, straining his ears to locate the sound.

The chestplate.

It was coming from behind the chestplate.

Hoping against hope, Edward kicked aside the steel shoulders and metal shins to reach the chestplate lying several feet from where he stood. He tossed it aside with a noisy clatter. Edward's heart sprang into his throat.

It was him; pale, yellow, ill, filthy and weak. He was emaciated and grimy, his ribs protruding and every bone in his body was visible. His sandy hair was matted and filthy, and almost reached his elbows. He was completely devoid of clothing and his overgrown hair obscured face from view, but it was him. It was Alphonse.

"Al!" Edward cried joyfully, flinging himself at his younger brother. He wrapped Alphonse in his arms, holding him in a tight embrace. He felt that if he loosened his strong grip, Alphonse would simply float away, he looked so weak. As he gripped Alphonse's quivering, emaciated form, Edward noticed that his embrace had bruises on his delicate, yellowish skin.

"Oh! Oh, Al, I'm so sor-" Edward's voice spluttered and died within his throat. His vocal cords shriveled and collapsed into a useless heap. His brother's tangled hair had shifted, throwing his face into sharp relief. Edward felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. This person…this _thing_ was not his little brother! It couldn't be…

Edward leapt backward, covering his mouth with his hands to prevent himself from screaming out in horror. He recoiled in disgust, resisting the urge to vomit. His heart seemed to freeze in his chest as this…this _creature_ began to stir and moan pathetically. It slowly pushed itself up on all fours, gradually raising its head to stare at Edward.

"_Ooh," _Edward uttered, appalled. The thing gazed wretchedly up at him through mismatched eyes, a grimace of pain etched into its contorted, grotesque face.

"_B-broth…er…" _It choked in a hoarse, faint voice before collapsing, limp and weak, onto the filthy ground.

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**(Cowers) Please don't hurt me! I know I'm bring mean to dearest Alphonse, but... but um... The Plot Bunny made me! Ah, short chappie, I know. Sorry. Please reveiw, flames welcome.**

**Purrs,**

**Frenchie-chan**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yay! Here it is! Chapter three!! (dancedancetwirltwirl) Thanks to anyone willing to sit through this! I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: Not Mine**

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Edward hated hospitals. They were so large and unnaturally clean, they reeked of medicine and old people, the food was beyond nasty, and, Edward wrinkled his nose in disgust, those nurses constantly trying to stick a needle into your arm… he shuddered violently. It was almost better to simply suffer from illness than have to live out your days in this wretched place! It was hardly better than a prison! _But,_ _then why is it,_ Edward pondered furiously, _that I'm sitting on my ass in one right now?!_

Edward stared coldly at his surroundings. He was lying on his back in a bed with starchy, linen sheets, his right ankle bound tightly in a cast and suspended in the air. There was an I.V. stuck in his left arm, which was attached to a sac filled with some foul-looking brownish liquid. He sighed. Who knew what they had been drugging him with? His room was relatively small and dingy, with no windows, only a door with squeaking hinges and peeling gray paint. The door led out into a hallway, and where the hallway led…Edward had no idea. He shuddered again as he recalled the events from two nights previously.

_ Edward screwed his eyes shut tightly. It was all a dream…just a nightmare, that was all… That thing, that monstrous, unsightly creature wasn't real; it was all just a figment of his overactive imagination… Edward grinded his teeth, grimacing painfully. "I'll wake up, and I'll be in a bed somewhere, and Al will be standing right next to me, trying to get me to drink milk or something…"_

_ Edward opened his eyes. His insides seemed to disappear. He was still there. And that…that __**freak**__ was still there, lying silently, motionless, it didn't even appear to be breathing. Edward, with revulsion, gripped its wrist, waiting…listening… "Yes, that's a pulse," He thought after several seconds. Faint, but there, nonetheless. Edward suppressed a shudder of disgust as he lifted the pathetic creature into his arms. It was light; less than one hundred pounds, he estimated. He cautiously left the abandoned warehouse, trying not to look at the thing's face. Edward limped along the street, pain firing up his right leg every time he took a step. "It's raining," He realized suddenly, as a drop of water landed on his face. If he didn't find shelter soon, he'd have to spend the night in the streets with…_

_ He began to run, not knowing or caring where to, just running. Ignoring the searing pain in his ankle and the freezing sheets of rain, Edward bean to search for any means of escape from this bitter hell… He sprinted down the slick pavement, trying not to topple over due to the body in his arms. His heart began to pound painfully against his ribs, and his lungs began to scream in protest as he forced himself to inhale and exhale, his breath turning to mist before his eyes. He slipped suddenly on a patch of ice, falling face-forward on the pavement. Edward slowly pushed him self up and licked his chapped lips; he tasted blood. Giving no thought to himself, he gathered the pitiful, mangled creature in his arms and rose to his feet once more. He darted and wove in and around the streets, paying no attention to car headlights or the occasional shout from a passerby. His eyes began to sting, blurring his vision, rendering him half-blind. The bitter cold beginning to eat away at his insides, he dashed into the nearest door, not knowing or caring where it led or who was inside. Edward stood there, hunched over the unconscious body, his long, blonde locks plastered to his crimson face. Edward could make out several blurred figures, all of which seemed to be turned in his direction. He gathered that the people in the room had been chatting mindlessly before he barged in unexpectedly, making the room all silent._

_ "Please…" He begged, his voice cracked and unrecognizable as his own. His legs gave way and he sank pitifully to his knees, dropping the creature's body._

_ "P-please, help…" He rasped again, struggling to remain conscious. One of the figures seemed to be approaching him in a wary fashion._

_ "Help me…"_

That was the last thing he remembered. When he regained consciousness, he was in this God-forsaken hospital bed. For the past several days, he's not said hardly a word, his only company a bespectacled man with thinning white hair and a long medical coat and the nurse who came visited in the morning, midday, and evening to deliver the same greasy, slightly orange dish that Edward had yet to identify. Dr. Spectacles visited from time to time, informing him that his right ankle was sprained, and he also had several cuts and bruises, the worst of which was on his cheek. Edward listened, not really taking the information in. It wasn't really of great importance, as far as he was concerned. The sooner he was out of this miserable prison, the better. There was only one thing that concerned him: Alphonse. What had happened to his little brother? Had he survived the transmutation? If he had indeed survived, where was he? And _what_ was that… that _thing!?_ Edward had thought, for a fleeting, joyous moment, that it was Alphonse, and that he had successfully returned his little brother to his flesh body… until he saw it's face. Alphonse was a young; hardly more than a child. No child alive could have a face like that. Just the thought of it made him want to vomit up that greasy mush he had eaten earlier.

Edward's train of thought was interrupted by the creaking hinges of the rusty door. Dr. Spectacles was back. He groaned inwardly. This man spoke of Edward's injuries with such vigor and cheerful enthusiasm he was beginning to believe that the doctor _enjoyed_ making him miserable. Dr. Spectacles began rambling gleefully about sprains and bone fractures. Edward wasn't listening. He focused his attention on a nasty yellowish stain on the wall that looked as if someone had been sick on it. As Dr. Spectacle's voice droned on and on like a vacuum cleaner, Edward suddenly realized something. Maybe, just maybe, this doctor knew…

"Where is it?" Edward asked without looking at the doctor. His voice was rough, and guttural from lack of use. Dr. Spectacles stopped ranting and glanced at Edward.

"I peg your pardon?" He asked, looking at Edward from over his glasses.

"Where is it? That…that thing I carried in here. Um…What did you do with it? It's still alive isn't it? Where is it? Or rather- _what_ is it? I'm slightly curious to see what I transmu-" Edward stopped. He was giving away too much information. And the less this doctor knew, the better.

Dr. Spectacles was silent for a minute, before setting down his clipboard and staring at Edward as if he had never seen anything quite like him before. "We placed him in a private ward." He said slowly. "He's very ill. Malnourished. Looked like he hadn't been fed in months, at the least. He's doing better, but he's still in pretty bad shape. He's not yet woken, but he keeps tossing and turning, muttering in his sleep. Always the same thing…"

Edward's mouth went very dry. No, it wasn't… It couldn't be… "What does he say?" He whispered.

"He keeps muttering _'Brother' _over and over again. Sometimes he cries for someone named 'Edward'. Poor chap. He's horribly traumatized. He'll need counseling and physical therapy once he's out of this mess. And that face-" Dr. Spectacles stopped suddenly. He froze momentarily before leaping up as if the chair had burned him. "I've said too much. I-I need to go." He said, flustered. He scrambled frantically to gather his things and scooted out of the room, slamming the rusty door behind him, making dust flutter down from the ceiling.

Edward sat there in shock. That creature… that hideous, repugnant creature was _Alphonse?_ His brother, Al? It couldn't be, there had to be some kind of mistake… But there was only one person who had ever called him 'brother'… With a start he recalled how pitiful and emaciated he had looked; as if a breeze could make him collapse into a heap. And that face… Oh God, that face… _"What have I done?" _Edward thought in horror. _"He was better off in that wretched armor…I've done nothing but make his life more dismal than it was before…"_

Edward buried his head in the starchy linens. The stench of bleach entered his nostrils. He began to sob, silently at first, then beginning to mutter, _"I'm sorry, Al… I'm so sorry…" _His words became so jumbled and disoriented that they became nothing but nonsense; jabbering away in some foreign tongue that he couldn't understand… _"Oh God, what have I done…?"_

"_Please Alphonse…I'm so sorry. F-forgive me…"_

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**Ha Ha!! How was _that?! _I hope I don't get seriously injured for being so mean to Al. Don't worry, I love you Al! If I didn't love you, I wouldn't be so mean to you!! (See my icon if you doubt it!) **

**Review!! I _thrive_ off of reviews! Mwahahaha!! Review, my lovelies, review!**

**Purrs,**

**Frenchie-chan**


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow! I think this is my longest chapter! You know, I've noticed something. All of my FMA fics seem to have some sort of _Phantom of the Opera_ refrence in them.** **Strange. Oh, well. I'll worry about that later. Now, on with the show!**

**Disclaimer: Not Mine. Making no money off this...**

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Gurneys are heavy. Edward had never really thought about how heavy gurneys were, nor had he ever particularly cared how heavy gurneys were. But that night, he was in for an unpleasant realization: gurneys were heavy.

The gaunt body that occupied the gurney moaned softly and stirred feebly. Edward slowed his pace to a brisk walk, whilst leaning slightly to peer at him.

"Shhhh," He whispered reassuringly. "Well be out of here in just a minute, Al," He stroked Alphonse's hair soothingly. He twitched slightly. Edward smiled. Alphonse hadn't regained consciousness since the transmutation, nor was he even recognizable as the kindhearted, mild-mannered young boy from Risembool, but he was alive. He stirred every once in a while, and occasionally muttered, _"Brother…"_ or "_Ed…"_ under his breath. The only two things that particularly disturbed Edward were the fact that his brother was totally emaciated; he had the sunken, hallow appearance of someone who had been in prison for a long time, and…his face. What had happened to Alphonse during the transmutation? What had Edward done to make his brother look like _that?_ Edward had hastily swept his brother's overgrown, but at least clean, sandy hair over his face so not to alarm anyone in the hospital. Recalling his own immediate reaction to the appalling sight, he couldn't imagine the uproar that would inevitably take place if, per say; a young child glimpsed his face. Edward didn't want to imagine what would happen then…

Edward slowed to a halt as he reached the infirmary's main entrance. He tenderly lifted Alphonse from the gurney, taking care not to bruise his delicate skin. Edward realized with a pang that he was just as disturbingly lightweight as he was the night of the transmutation. He pushed the gurney aside; it had served its purpose. Making absolutely positive that he had a secure grip on Alphonse, Edward pushed open the stone doors and stepped out into the night.

It was cool outside; not unpleasantly so, but a moist, relaxing cool. _"It's good for Al's fever,"_ Edward thought, trying to be optimistic. He quickly paced down the desolate street, trying to recall the night of the transmutation and retrace his steps to the warehouse were he had attempted to restore Alphonse's body.

Edward vaguely recalled running through these streets in the rain, clutching Alphonse's barely living form. _"What was I thinking that night?"_ Edward thought, gazing at all the unfamiliar buildings and avenues. Edward wondered the city, not recognizing any street names or buildings. After almost half an hour of unfruitful searching, he mentally kicked himself. _"Why…? Why didn't I pay attention to where I was going?"_ Edward swore through his teeth, the color beginning to rise in his face. _"I'm lost," _He admitted painfully. As much as it pained him to confess it, Edward Elric was lost. You see, it's not every day you meet a male who will admit to getting lost.

A very agitated Edward stomped furiously across the street, whilst trying not to drop a very comatose Alphonse. As his breathing became irregular and his face began to resemble a radish, Edward came to a sudden halt. He was standing before a relatively small building. Well, it looked more like an apartment; it was only two stories high. It was shabby and run-down, like no one had visited in years. The windows were boarded and screwed shut tightly, and the dead shrubs in the garden were twisted and gnarled, like some sort of plant one finds in a marshy bog. It bore an uncanny resemblance to a haunted house in some cheap horror movie. Suddenly, Edward had an idea. It was insane, totally irrational and unrealistic, but maybe, just maybe… _"Hmm…" _Edward mulled over his options. _"Lessee… It's simplistic…rather small …it doesn't really stick out, in fact, it's almost unnoticeable…not exactly prepossessing… it's perfect!" _

Edward almost ran into the abandoned apartment. The door nearly swung off its hinges as he stepped over the threshold with Alphonse in his arms. Edward needed a place to stay, somewhere were they could reside temporarily while he nursed Alphonse back to health, and a place to hide from the state. Edward didn't think the military should know just yet that Alphonse had (somewhat) regained his body. They both needed time to adjust to this drastic change, and a deserted flat was the _last_ place they'd look for the FullMetal Alchemist.

Edward tenderly laid his brother's limp form on the frayed couch. As he did so, he noticed that all the furniture was covered by filthy white sheets, and a thick layer of dust coated everything else. Some of the dust floated into the air as he laid Alphonse down, making him sneeze. Alphonse wrinkled his nose, but otherwise didn't respond. Edward smiled and pushed his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. He quickly dampened a soiled washcloth in the rusty sink, pulled Alphonse's hair out of his eyes, and placed it on his forehead. Edward's smile disappeared as he gazed sadly at Alphonse's now mutilated features.

The sight was too horrendous for any loathsome creature from the pits of Hell to imagine. While the left side of his face still looked relatively normal, the right side was now warped and distorted beyond human recognition. Two huge, roping scars started at his upper lip and spread all they was to his ear. His lips were discolored and swollen to almost twice the usual size, making him appear to be forever grimacing. Through a very thin layer of skin, Edward could see straight down to his skull, where hundreds of thousands of tiny veins intersected and criss-crossed, visibly pulsing blood through them. His hair around the ear and temple wasn't thick and sandy, but colorless, thin and wispy, and barely concealed the visible skull and pulsing veins. His right eye appeared larger than the other, bulging from under its closed lid .He had absolutely no right eyebrow, his nose was oddly shaped, his right nostril larger than the other. What other space left on that side of his face was covered in scars and blistered skin.

A single tear slid silently down Edward's cheek. He'd ruined not only Alphonse's once- handsome face, but what about his future? Alphonse couldn't go out in public looking like that! It would cause a riot! Edward had heard about people with abnormal disfigurements being treated like scum and being displayed in circuses and freak shows. He shuddered to think what pandemonium would ensue if Alphonse was seen in public, or worse…what if the military found out about this? They'd arrest him for attempting forbidden alchemy…again. Alphonse would inescapably be shipped off to some laboratory so that scientists could poke and prod him and run tests on him, like an inhuman lab rat! _"No one deserves such a fate," _Edward thought uneasily. He didn't want to think about what would happen then. Edward's mind wandered over to his family, or, at least the closest thing he had to one. What would Winry and Granny Pinako say when they saw what he'd done? What would Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye say? Worse, what would _Izumi_ say? "_What Izumi would __**do**__ is a better question," _Edward thought bitterly. They'd all find out eventually; there was no use in trying to hide the truth from them. Would they except what he'd done? Would they be angry? How would he reveal this to them? There was really no easy way to break such horrible news. Edward had a sudden, unsettling realization. What would his _mother_ have said? If she had been alive, how would she react if Edward told her everything? What if he told her about trying to perform human transmutation, joining the military, the automail limbs, Alphonse's suit of armor, becoming a state alchemist, everything. And now…now he just had another item on his list of 'Things I Wish I'd Never Done'.

Edward became suddenly aware of his parched throat. He rose from the couch and shuffled into the old, grimy kitchen, stretching his sore muscles as he went. There was a rusted, old-fashioned stove in a corner, and the faucet was badly tarnished. He twisted the corroded knobs, hoping for a glass of water. After several minutes of trying to coax water form the uncooperative pipes, he gave up and stooped lackadaisically back into the living room, his throat still parched.

Alphonse hadn't moved an inch since Edward had put him on the couch. He sighed. He was sort of hoping his brother would simply spring to life and resume his usual easygoing, casual self. It was one thing to be totally alone; it was another to be in the company of someone who seemed to be hovering somewhere between life and death. A horrible thought struck Edward. _What if Alphonse never woke up? _What if he just stayed comatose forever? Alphonse was alive, he was breathing and had a pulse, but he had been unconscious for almost a week, and nothing Edward did could wake him. He had tried shaking him, prodding him, shouting his name, and even dousing cold water on him, and he simply remained as lifeless as ever. Edward was beginning to wonder if he was in a coma. _"If he is,"_ Edward thought hopelessly, _"I never should have taken him from that hospital,"_

Edward collapsed into a rickety old chair near a window, making dust fly everywhere. He sneezed again, and Alphonse twitched slightly. Edward propped his elbows on the moldy windowsill. He stared bleakly between the wooden planks of the boarded-up window and into the street. Lights were visible in some windows, signs of life, and a light snow was staring to fall. "It must be early morning," Edward muttered. He gazed sadly at the little white flurries floating down from the heavens. Memories from the distant days of his childhood came flooding back to him. Bittersweet recollections of playing in the snow with Alphonse and Winry in Risembool... Edward cast Alphonse a sideways glance. "Look Al, it's snowing…" He said softly. He knew Alphonse couldn't hear him, but it felt good to at least _talk_ to him. Edward recalled with a gentle smile the time he, Alphonse, and Winry had gotten into a ferocious snowball fight. They had flung fistfuls of compacted snow at each other for hours until they had collapsed, cold, wet and red-faced, onto the sodden ground. Winry brutally defeated both him and Alphonse; she had always had a special talent for throwing things. Edward chuckled softly at the happy memory. "Hey, Al, remember that time you, me, and Winry got into that snowball fight back home in Risembool?"

_ "The one where Winry flattened both of us?"_

If Edward's jaw wasn't securely fused to his face, it would have fallen off and landed at his feet. If his eyeballs weren't firmly lodged in his skull, they would have dropped out and rolled across the floor. Fearing he was hearing things, afraid that worry was toying with his mind, he swiveled around, his long red coat swirling around him.

Alphonse was still sprawled on the musty sofa, but he was no longer limp and lifeless. He was now lying in an awkward position, craning his neck, trying to make eye contact with Edward. His eyes were now wide open, glassy and darting desperately around the room. As he raised his head, the dim light made the sunken, mutilated features of the right side appear even more grotesque in comparison to the smooth, handsome left side.

_ "B-brother? Is that you?"_

Edward stood, rooted to the spot, at a loss for words. His mind had gone numb, and his limbs were frozen, automail or no. He simply stood there, his mouth hanging open like an idiot, totally oblivious to everything but one fact: _Alphonse was awake._ In that horrible state though he may be, but he was _awake._ Edward tried to form words, but nothing but a low groan would come out. It appeared that his vocal cords were still recovering from shock. After gaping like a fish for several minutes, he finally stuttered, _"A-A-Alphonse?!"_

Alphonse nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead fell into a violent coughing fit. Edward clumsily stumbled over a wobbly coffee table towards his brother, his legs feeling as if they were made of jell-o. He put a firm, but gentle, hand on Alphonse's heaving shoulders, in a vain attempt to comfort him. After several minutes, Alphonse's coughs subsided, leaving him trembling and sniffling.

_ "You-You did it, brother. You got my body back_," Alphonse rasped after his coughing subsided. Edward nodded dumbly, at a loss for words. Alphonse's voice sounded different, he realized. It was hoarse and raspy from lack of use, and had lost the metallic echo quality he had gotten accustomed to over the years. It was deeper in pitch than Edward remembered, and sounded clumsy and disoriented, like he had almost forgotten how to form words. It was different, but recognizable. Underneath the hoarseness and deeper pitch, Edward could recognize his little brother's voice.

_ "How did-" _Alphonse started.

"Shhh." Edward cut him off. "You just need to rest. You've been unconscious for almost a week, and you haven't had anything to eat since…well, since I…uh, _excused_ you from the hospital,"

_ "You did __**what**__?!"_ Alphonse exclaimed. _"You-" _He gagged suddenly and fell into another coughing fit.

"Again, Shhh!" Edward shook his head. "You need to rest! You haven't used your body in so long that it's not used to moving and breathing and-" His voice faltered. It…it was just too much. So much had happened in such a short time. Could it be that just a few short days ago Alphonse was still in his armor shell? After years of searching, envisioning, and scheming, he had finally found the little red stone capable of alchemy beyond human comprehension, and used it to fulfill his life's goal: to restore Alphonse to his flesh body. It had seemed unfair; he and Alphonse had searched for this legendary artifact for seven years, risking their lives for the sake of a stone that may not even exist. The stone was tiny; no larger than a golf ball, and looked as if it would shatter if dropped. It looked nothing less than fragile and delicate, easily broken. Could this insignificant, flimsy little rock really have incomparable powers? After all that searching, after all that turmoil and strife, their wildest dreams of locating the stone were a reality at last! They had dreamed of nothing else for years, and now, here it was! Materializing before their very eyes! Oh, their moment of triumph was short-lived, though. Just like last time, they had a hefty price to pay for their sin. His mother had asked him to take care of Alphonse after she died, and now look what he had done. Gazing painfully at Alphonse's marred features; he thought _"Was it all for this? All those years of research, all the people who gave their lives on our part, and this is the result? What have I done? I've failed, Al. I've failed. I've let everyone down. I've let the military down, I've let our mother down, and I've you down, Al. I'm a failure."_

"Brother? A-are you alright?" Alphonse rasped, noticing Edward's devastated expression.

Edward nodded, before finding himself wrapped in Alphonse's loving embrace. He couldn't hold it in anymore, and sobbed openly onto Alphonse's shoulder. Edward had never cried so hard in his life. He had held back tears at his mother's funeral, he hadn't shed a single tear as his automail was attached to his nerves, and he had forced himself to accept the news of Maes Hughes' murder. But now he was tired of suppressing his sorrow; and he wailed his grief for all of them, Alphonse gently comforting him and whispering soothing words. _"This isn't how it should be,"_

Edward thought painfully with regret. _"I should be the one comforting him, not the other way around," _The fact made him feel even more helpless.

_ "Shhh…" _Alphonse whispered soothingly, stroking Edward's matted blonde locks, exactly the same way Edward had done when Alphonse was unconscious. _"Could Al possibly remember that?" _Edward thought incredulously. _"It's alright, brother. It's alright," _Alphonse crooned softly.

_ "Oh, Al…" _Edward thought dejectedly._ "Nothing is alright right now." _

* * *

**Oooh, I like that last line, if I do say so myself! I think the whole 'Al-waking-up' thing was rather...stiff... but I hope you enjoyed, nonetheless. Now, click that little blue button and leave me a nice review! (Or you can leave a nasty one, I'll happily accept those, too.)**

**Purrs,**

**Frenchie-chan**


	5. Chapter 5

**Howdy! **

**No, I'm not dead, I've just been swamped at school. (Ha! That's always the excuse, isn't it?) This chapter was really hard to write, and I probably deserve all the rotten tomatoes you'll throw at me. I omited and added a lot of passages abd pulled a lot of all-nighters, and I'm still not satisfied with it! But I thought I've tortured you long enough, so I posted. Hope you enjoy.**

**Note: The poem used in this chapter is not mine. It was written by the great English poet Joseph Carrey Merrick, who is a hero of mine and provided a lot of inspiration for this story.**

* * *

"'_Tis true my form is something odd,_

_but blaming me is blaming God._

_Could I create myself anew,_

_I would not fail in pleasing you._

_If I could reach from pole to pole,_

_Or grasp the ocean with a span,_

_I would be measured by the soul;_

_The mind's the standard of the man."_

Edward snapped the tattered book he was holding shut. A loud _snap_ echoed off the walls and dust from the musty pages flew pointlessly into the air. Some of the particles fluttered into his nostrils, making him sneeze. He and Alphonse had been residing in their abandoned flat for about two weeks now, and had fallen into the same repetitive routine every day. Alphonse was still weak and ill, and spent most of the time sleeping. His fever was low, but it had yet to break. Edward was no doctor, but he had enough sense to know that Alphonse needed bed rest to regain his strength. Despite his frail state, he was slowly progressing; he could speak without falling into a coughing fit, and was beginning to eat solid, soft foods. The first few days after his return to consciousness, he could eat nothing but liquids, as anything thicker would wind up regurgitated a minute later. Edward was re-teaching him to use dining utensils, and his energy was slowly returning. He had given Alphonse the largest bedroom in the flat, and had pushed a bed from across the hall into his room, in case his brother needed him in the middle of the night. For his brother's sake, he had hidden all the mirrors in house, preventing Alphonse from seeing his reflection. He didn't think Alphonse needed see what he had become; not yet.

Since Alphonse spent most of the time asleep, Edward had become extremely bored in the past two weeks. He had inspected every room in the house, and found a small library of ancient, moldy books on the second floor. On closer inspection, Edward discovered that all the books were on one subject: poetry. Hundreds of books, and not a single alchemy array in any of them. They all contained every type of verse he could imagine; limericks, couplets, haikus, prose, and countless other types he didn't care to count. _"Just look," _He thought with dark amusement one day. _"The FullMetal Alchemist, with nothing better to do than read a bunch of stupid poems," _Edward sighed. Nursing Alphonse back to health was going to be more of a challenge than he had thought.

* * *

"I don't want it,"

"I don't care what you do and don't want! You'll eat it so you can walk again!"

"I've eaten nothing else for a week! Brother, you're such a-"

Alphonse was cut off suddenly as yet another spoonful of pudding was shoved in his mouth.

"Swallow," Edward commanded, pointing the spoon at Alphonse like an emperor would a peasant. Alphonse glared venomously at his brother, but hesitantly swallowed the pudding, nonetheless.

"Now," Edward said. "I'm a _what_, exactly?"

Alphonse's scowl turned to an amused grin. "You're such a hypocrite! You can sit there all day and make me eat pudding, but if I came near you with a glass of milk, you'd run all the way from here to Xing!"

Edward laughed melodiously. "You and I both know that I'm above resorting to such desperate measures to distance myself from such a vile substance," He turned his back to screw the top back on the pudding container.

Alphonse slumped onto his carefully arranged pillows. He stared absently at the ceiling for a second before muttering, "Brother, you throw tantrums that can give a toddler a run for their money,"

Edward's eye twitched, but he forced himself to remain calm at his brother's sarcastic remark.

The next day, Edward decided to fulfill Alphonse's wish of eating solid food. He marched up the rickety staircase with a small plate of apple wedges he had peeled _ever_ so carefully. The proof was quite visible, as the flesh fingers on his left hand were covered in hastily-applied bandages. Only the best for his little brother, right?

"…and you better enjoy it!" He said jokingly as Alphonse slowly chewed and swallowed the apple wedges.

* * *

Over the next several weeks, Edward dedicated himself to helping Alphonse become accustomed to living life in his restored body. This included learning to feed himself, dress himself, mastering simple tasks like brushing his teeth and combing his hair, learning how to write again, (He was still trying to decide if he was left-handed of right-handed. This issue was resolved by Edward hurling the pencil across the room and screaming _"You're ambidextrous!"_) and most importantly, learning to walk again.

"Okay…this shouldn't be too hard. Give it a try, Al,"

Alphonse looked up at his brother. He was standing next to the bed, clinging desperately to the bedpost for support. Though he had gained weight over the past several weeks, he was still very thin, and Edward's borrowed clothes seemed to swallow him whole. Alphonse's limbs were spindly and frail, and shook slightly at the thought of walking by himself.

"Brother, I…I dunno…"

Edward rolled his eyes. Come on, Al. It's been long enough."

"But Brother, I-…I can't…"

"Of course you can!" Edward snapped. "Don't give me that crap, Al! I haven't been taking care of you for weeks just so I can hear you say, 'I can't!'"

Alphonse sighed. This wasn't one of his brother's good days. He slowly, ever so slowly began to place on foot before the other, cautiously, warily, making absolutely positive his balance was steady, easy now-

"You need to take your hands off the bedpost to do it properly," Edward said.

Alphonse glared at his brother. It was _his_ fault for being so stubborn! He gradually raised his slightly sweaty hands from the bedpost, and, slowly but surely, made his way across the bedroom toward Edward. His legs felt weak and tremulous, but who in the world cared? He was walking, really walking with his real body for the first time in years! Alphonse grinned ecstatically and reached for Edward, but before he could reach his brother, his brother reached him; and swept him into a tight hug. They both collapsed onto the bed, laughing.

"See?" Edward said, hiccupping slightly. "That wasn't so bad! You just need to practice every day!"

"WHAT?!"

* * *

After a week-and-a-half of hard practice and many apple wedges, Alphonse could walk about the flat on his own. He typically walked around the outside of the flat once a day. This tired him, but it was good practice. He was sick of being totally dependant on Edward, being unable to dress and feed himself made him feel helpless beyond belief. And screaming for your brother every time you have to go to the bathroom can be a particular annoyance too. However, the one thing that really confused him was that every time he went outside for his daily walk-around-the-flat, Edward would swoop over him and arrange his hair so that only the left side of his face was visible. Confusing, but Alphonse didn't question it. Not out loud, anyway.

"Brother!"

Edward glanced up from the poetry book he was holding. Alphonse was standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob.

"I'm gonna walk around the apartment again," He said happily.

Edward nodded. "Okay, just one thing…"

Edward carefully adjusted Alphonse's hair so that none of the hideous marred features were visible. He felt a pang of guilt every time Alphonse looked at him; every time he saw that smile masked by repulsive disfigurements. He was ashamed of his immediate reaction, and was thankful Alphonse had been unconscious for _that_ ordeal. If a lesser being were to see him… Edward didn't want to think about it.

"Alright, you're ready,"

The twosome stepped trough the doorway, and while Alphonse disappeared behind the flat, Edward remained on the porch. He leaned against the wall and pulled out the poetry book he had been reading earlier. He didn't typically care much for poetry, but the one he had read last week was…oh, how to describe it… _ironic. _Yes, Ironic. Edward's eyes slid out of focus as his mind wondered vaguely, contemplating everything he ever knew about irony and everything he had ever guessed about fate.

Fate.

He had never been one to believe in such abstract things; as a scientist these sort of things were illogical and scientifically unexplainable, and yet…and yet here he was, a mere pawn in the hands of fate.

"Oi!"

Edward jumped, startled by the sudden sound, and dropped his book in surprise. He stared wildly around whilst trying to fetch his book from the ground.

"'Ey, you!"

A scruffy-looking young man with red hair, freckles, and a large bag slung over his shoulder stood on the first porch step. Edward had been so lost in his own thoughts, he didn't even hear him coming. The man was tall and skinny, with a five-'o-clock shadow and a dirty cap on his wavy red locks. He didn't appear to be much older than Edward himself. He carried himself in a stooped sort of way; Edward guessed it was from the heavy bag over his shoulder.

"S'cuse me," He slurred. "But d'you care fer a paper?" He withdrew a yellow newspaper from his bag and waved it in Edward's face. He frowned. The man seemed very dodgy, and had an odd accent he didn't recognize.

"No, thanks."

"But mister-" The man froze. His whole body tensed, and his face quickly drained of color. His face contorted and eyes widened in horror. His mouth opened in a silent scream, and his glassy eyes seemed to bug out of his skull. He gave a horrible, strangled yell, and backed away clumsily, dropping newspapers as he went.

Edward wheeled around. No, it _can't_ be; _please_ don't be-

What Edward saw made his heart stand still.

Alphonse stood behind a row of gnarled brush, his hair no longer obscuring his face from view. Alphonse's mismatched eyes darted from Edward, to the paper man, and back again, taking in the whole scene. Edward could clearly make out his disgustingly marred features, and quite unmistakably, so could this paper man. Edward turned back to him.

"_Please, Please, this isn't what it looks like-!"_

It was too late; the paper man was gone, a lone figure sprinting up the street, his paper bag abandoned, frantically putting as much distance as humanly possible between himself and the horrific visage that had caused him so much terror.

Edward turned to Alphonse. The fire in his eyes told Alphonse he was in very deep trouble.

Edward pointed to the door. _"Inside. Now."_

Alphonse didn't dare contradict him. He scampered inside the house, and sat uncomfortably on the sofa. Edward slammed the door and locked it. Then he turned his murderous gaze to his brother.

"B-brother, I-"

"What the hell were you _thinking_ Al?"Edward shouted.

Alphonse gazed timidly at the floor. "I-I dunno…"

"No, you weren't thinking, were you?" Edward shouted again, making dust flutter down from the ceiling. "Did it not ever occur to you that I had my reasons for doing what I did? I care only for your safety, that's all! How could you be so damn _stupid,_ Al?"

_ "I just wanted to know why!"_

Edward fell silent. His eyes feel on the floor and he licked his lips uneasily.

"I…I'm sorry, Al. I shouldn't have yelled…" Edward trailed off, shifting his feet and twiddling his thumbs. Though Alphonse was trying to hide it, he was fighting back tears. _Great, _he thought bitterly. _I've made Al upset…_Edward mentally kicked himself for letting his fiery temper get the better of him…again. This whole mess was all _his_ fault after all…

"Brother," Alphonse said firmly. "That…That man looked truly horrified when he saw me… and I noticed that you've hidden all the mirrors in the house, and made me hide my face when I went outside. I know you've been hiding something from me, Brother. I want…I want to see myself."

* * *

**Ah, cliffhangers are strange things. I love writing them, but hate reading them. TeeHee... Please leave a review, you lurkers! I know you're there, I can sense your presence!! Remember: Writers love nothing more than hearing from their readers, so please leave a message. And I read every single one of them, so I guarantee I'll see it, and I'll try to reply to them all. Flames are welcomed.**

**God Bless,**

**Frenchie-chan**


	6. Chapter 6

**Howdy!**

**To those of you who have stayed with me thus far, thank you. I am eternally gratefull. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update, but I've been incredibly busy with school, work, finals, insane relatives, ect. In fact, I wrote a majority of this chapter while I was _supposed_ to be studying for finals. Heh heh, that things I do for Fanfiction...**

**Although I edited this chapter out the wazoo, as usual, I'm still not happy with it. On the other hand, I left you at a dreadful cliffhanger last time, and I think I've deprived you all enough. So, I decided to post. I tried to make Al's reaction heart-wrenching, but...eh, I dunno, that's for you to say, isn't it? I'll shut up now.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Edward was no stranger to shock. Over the course of his time in the military, he had seen his share of gruesome things; Shou Tucker's grotesque experimentations with chimeras, the secret goings-on in Laboratory Five, Solf J. Kimblee's grisly actions during the Ishball Rebellion, and countless people like Maes Hughes who had been ruthlessly slaughtered.

However, nothing he had ever seen or done could possibly prepare him for this moment. How often do you tell your own brother that you somehow managed to turn him into some sort of circus freak? Edward's eyes darted about the room, gazing restlessly at anything but the determined face before him.

_"Maybe I'll make something up," _He thought frantically, _"No, he'll see through any lie I try to feed him…" _Edward was quite a gifted liar; he had lied on many occasions to get himself and Alphonse out of trouble. Alphonse, on the other hand, had always possessed a supernatural ability to detect when he was being lied to, and likely knew his brother better than anyone else._ "This once," _He decided, _"The truth is probably the best choice,"_

Edward gave his head a firm shake to clear his thoughts. He stared resolutely into Alphonse's unyielding face, each pair of eyes boring into the other. Edward sighed heavily and looked over his shoulder at the hallway. He had hidden all the mirrors under a loose floorboard near his and Alphonse's room. He had gotten the idea from a story he had read in one of the literature books, were a crazed man had committed a murder and hidden the corpse under loose floorboards. The man later confessed to the murder because, consumed in his guilt, he had imagined to hear the man's heartbeat and tore up the floorboards, revealing the mangled corpse.

With a pang, Edward realized his current situation and the narrative were very similar; almost frighteningly so. Disturbed by something repulsive, they had both kept the truth hidden under floorboards from their cohorts and, in a state of guilt, revealed the horrid truth. The man in the tale had been mad, simply and utterly mad. _"Maybe I'm mad, too." _He thought. _"What sane person would find themselves in this sort of position…?" _He shuddered. The man and he were too similar for his liking.

Edward felt oddly light-headed and his legs had a strange numbness about them as he dazedly made his way to the hallway. A hollow, empty feeling ate away at his insides, like a condemned man marching to the gallows. He motioned for Alphonse to follow him, unable to form rational words. His heart pounding audibly, he wrenched apart the floorboard under which the mirrors were hidden. He fumbled blindly; his sweaty, trembling fingers seemingly uncooperative with his brain. Finally grasping a small, tarnished mirror, he wiped a thin layer of grime off the surface before handing it wordlessly to Alphonse.

Several expressions passed over Alphonse's face as he took in the entirety of his reflection. The first was horror. His eyes widened in utmost disgust, and a soft _'oooh,' _of repulsion escaped his twisted lips. The next was disbelief, and he tenderly touched the scars and disfigured skin, as if the mirror were deceiving him. Then Alphonse expressed an emotion Edward had hardly ever seen before from his little brother: anger. His breathing became shallow and uneven, and his hands began to shake violently. They shook to such an extent that the mirror fell from his grasp and shattered at his feet. Alphonse either didn't notice or didn't care; he sank to his knees, and seized fistfuls of his hair, shaking.

Edward took a step forward.

"Al?"

He placed a hand on Alphonse's heaving shoulder.

_"Alphonse?"_

Alphonse raised his head. His eyes were glazed over in hysteria.

"This…is _this _what you were hiding from me…?" His voice quivered. _"What did…?How did…? How could this happen…? Haven't we been punished enough? Why…? Brother, why…?" _He trailed off, muttering incoherently.

"Equivalent Exchange," Edward said suddenly. "It quite obviously dislikes us,"

The two stood there for a moment or so, Edward silently comforting Alphonse while his breathing slowly returned to normal and the trembling stopped. Edward helped his brother to his feet, making sure he was steady before letting go.

Edward lightly touched the shards of shattered mirror with his foot. He smiled sadly as he recalled an old superstition Winry had once told them as children.

"Seven years…"

"Eh?"

"Seven years of bad luck, you know?"

Alphonse gave a very forced laugh. "I think we've had more than our share of bad luck,"

Edward couldn't say that Alphonse's reaction to his...predicament was exactly what he expected. Alphonse had been obviously frightened and disturbed by his new discovery, but in the days afterward the two had grown, of possible, even closer together. They had no secrets, they kept nothing from each other. Edward didn't know if it was Alphonse's gratitude and relief that Edward wasn't repulsed by his deformities, but he was eternally grateful that Alphonse had placed his trust in him.

Edward had a sudden realization as Alphonse sat down at the table with breakfast. (After Edward's disastrous attempt at meatloaf, Alphonse had taken over such culinary duties.) Edward grinned in a slightly maniacal fashion.

"You know," He started, chewing thoughtfully on a biscuit. "We have yet to tell Winry and that old hag of our latest shenanigans yet,"

Alphonse raised his eyebrow. "Shenanigans?"

A mischievous sparkle danced in Edward's eyes. "They don't know you've got your body back yet! You think we ought to spill the beans?" (A/N: Pun intended.)

Alphonse rolled his mismatched eyes. "Oh? I thought you were all about keeping her in the dark when it comes to such matters," His voice dripped with sarcasm. He shoved a mug of scalding coffee into Edward's hands.

"I think you're just looking for an excuse to see Winry,"

Edward choked on his tongue. "No-! I-it's just,…Well, a lot of-…stuff happened-I just, I-"

Alphonse rose to get some jelly, grinning cheekily while hid brother spluttered incoherently.

"I just,…you see- It's just that…"

Alphonse returned to the table with a jar of jelly in one hand and an old, dusty phone in the other.

"So," He said. "Should we tell her in person, or over the phone?"

Edward glanced from Alphonse to the phone in his hand. He shrugged and said, "Ah, I'm fine with whatever you want to do,"

Alphonse brightened instantly. "Then we tell her in person! I want to see her reaction with my own eyes!"

Edward grinned and returned to his breakfast, but Alphonse could have sworn he heard him mutter something along the lines of "Wrenches can't fly through phones,"

"Two tickets to Risembool, please,"

A mousy-haired woman behind the ticket booth eyed Alphonse's peculiar hairstyle suspiciously, but nonetheless placed two yellow tickets in Alphonse's hand in exchange for his money.

"Thank you," Alphonse said kindly.

The Elrics boarded the train, Alphonse hauling a small suitcase containing their few belongings, and Edward carrying a dish of noodles. When they reached their compartment, Edward wrenched open a window and collapsed onto the seat while Alphonse tossed the suitcase into the luggage rack above their head.

Alphonse was still getting used to using all of his senses. He was fascinated by the tiniest things, like feel of running water of the smell of one's hair after you washed it. He made mental note of the scent of the fabric seats, the gentle breeze from the open window, the train floor trembling beneath his feet; things he had taken for granted as a child and couldn't experience as a living suit of armor.

Alphonse pulled his hair back, away from his face. There was no one here but Edward and himself, and he didn't particularly like the hot, sticky feeling on the covered side of his face. He smiled slightly as the cool breeze washed over him.

"Brother?"

"Hmm?"

"What…what do you think Winry will do when she sees…when she sees…" He trailed off, the unscarred side of his face flushed slightly.

Edward's body stiffened. _'Of course,'_ he thought. _'He's to smart to let something like this slide…' _"Well…" He cleared his throat. "She may be a bit…surprised, but I'm sure she won't care. I mean, under the scars, you're still Alphonse, right? She'll accept you, just like I do,"

Alphonse stared into his brother's eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Positive,"

Alphonse grinned. "Thanks, brother."

With a piercing _hissssss,_ the train suddenly began to inch forward. Trees began to flit in and out of view as it picked up speed. As Edward watched the scenery flick past, he couldn't help but feel an inkling of doubt pulling at him, like an irritating insect. A terrible feeling that something bad is going to happen…that you just can't seem to shake off.

Edward glowered at the passing scenery, undesirable thoughts laid heavily on his mind. He recalled his immediate reaction to Alphonse's disfigurement with a nasty pang. He hunched his shoulders in shame. Alphonse would be crushed if Winry reacted that way, and completely destroyed if he had seen Edward act that way.

'_Am I really positive that she'll accept him?' _

**I got a lot of ideas for this chapter from Edgar Allen Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart." I saw a lot of simmilarities between Ed and the guy in "TTH." (Anybody know what that guy's name is...?) So, I decided to sprinkle it with a little Poe-ish-ness. I hope it's not too obvious... frets**

**Anyhow, please review, flames welcomed.**

**God Bless,**

**Frenchie-chan**


	7. Chapter 7

** My..._profound _apologies for the outrageously slow update. I know it's been over six months, and I'm sure most of you thought I was dead. I worked a horrid job all summer, and had little to no spare time to work on my beloved FanFics. Never fear! I haven't forgotten you and I love each and every one of my readers! Thanks for sticking with me!**

**This chapter was quite fun to write, because Winry and Pinako get to make an apperance! I've been dying to introduce some new characters, because Ed and Al have been hogging the spotlight. This is a pretty lighthearted chapter, so prepare for dramatic stuff in the near future!**

**Enjoy.**

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The sun was beginning its descent and the crisp atmosphere of evening was settling across the landscape as the small locomotive chugged to a halt at Risembool station. There was a sudden scurry for luggage as people awoke from their peaceful naps and looked up from their newspapers.

Edward slid the train door open and stepped into the station. The sun's dying rays cast long shadows on the ground and gave the sky a fiery orange hue.

Edward closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. _'Finally,' _he thought. _'Home…'._He smiled as peacefully and gazed happily around the old station. Very little had changed here since his childhood. Save for the occasional traveler, the train that had been given a paintjob, and a large poster that was advertising some sort of carnival, Edward's hometown remained virtually unchanged; unaffected by he ongoing strife in Central.

He relaxed. That was one thing he knew he could always count on; even if the rest of the world turned its back on him, his home would always be here, welcoming his with open arms.

The sound of heavy breathing intruded Edward's thoughts. He turned around to find Alphonse struggling to haul a heavy suitcase, identical to Edward's, off the tremulous locomotive. Edward cocked his head to one side.

"Too heavy?" He asked in concern. True, Alphonse was in far better condition than he had been a few weeks previously, but he was still recovering, nonetheless.

Alphonse shook his head, the visible side of his face flushed. "I've got it," he huffed breathlessly.

Edward nodded in understanding. It was always best to let Alphonse manage by himself. Once he had decided to accomplish something, there was no stopping him until he had finished the task.

The walk to the Rockbell house took longer than usual. Edward was constantly stopping to let his brother catch up with him, or to let him catch his breath. He asked several times if he needed help, but each time Alphonse refused, as if determined not to show weakness.

When the Rockbell house came into view, Alphonse quickened his stride, excitedly telling Edward about how happy he was to see Winry and Granny Pinako again, and how they would react to the return of his body.

"I wonder if they'll recognize me?" He wondered cheerfully.

"Mmm," Edward replied. _'Doubt it,' _He thought with a sinking feeling.

The Elrics felt a warm sense of belonging as they stepped onto the Rockbell property. Edward inhaled deeply. Although it wasn't nearly as cold here as it had been in Central, the air was still slightly nippy. The yellow house looked orange in the rays of the setting sun.

"I wonder if they're home?" Edward though aloud, silently noting the peculiar absence of flying wrenches. He rapped his knuckled on the door, the harsh sound of metal-against-wood reverberated through the air. A tense silence settled in the atmosphere, broken by the rusting sounds of someone moving inside.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing a very short person standing in the doorway, half-hidden in the shadows. Upon seeing the faces of the guests, the person swung open the door with surprising force.

The person standing in the doorway was an elderly woman. She was very short, shorter than Edward. She wore a dirty apron over a brown smock, and her hair was tied into a gravity-defying bun at the crown of her head. A pence-nez was balanced precariously on the bridge of her nose, and she clutched a pipe between her teeth. When she saw the identity of her guests, her face broke into a trademark smirk.

"Old lady Pinako!" Edward exclaimed along with his signature grin. Pinako puffed on her pipe and grinned back at him.

"Ah, I knew you'd be back as soon as you busted that arm again. Just can't seem to keep your limbs on, can you boy?" She chuckled softly before her grin slipped away, to be replaced with a slight frown.

"Where's Al?" She asked, her beady eyes narrowed.

"…Hullo, Granny,"

For the briefest of moments, Edward could have sworn he saw Pinako's eyes widen to the size of walnuts, and her pipe almost slide out of her grasp. The moment was fleeting though, and she regained her composure almost immediately as she gazed in awe at Alphonse's half-hidden face.

Suddenly, her face split into a huge grin and she clenched her pipe between her teeth. Alphonse smiled sheepishly back at her.

"Yes…I believe I know someone who's been dying to see you," She said before turning around and heading back into the house, motioning for them to follow her.

The Elrics followed suit, the warm air inside a relief from the chilly wind. Edward cast his gaze around. Bolts on the floor, the overwhelming stench of oil…this place hadn't changed from his last visit, either.

"She's been waiting for this for years," Pinako muttered, half to herself. She smirked at the brothers before hollering up the staircase,

"WINRY! WE'VE GOT VISITORS!"

Edward winced. For someone who smoked like a chimney, Pinako had lungs of steel.

As her voice echoed off the walls, there was a loud _'thunk' _from somewhere over their heads, followed by the sound of some one scrambling across the floor and crashing noisily down the stairs.

Edward never saw Winry Rockbell skid into the room. He never saw her draw a wrench from her pocket with superhuman speed. He did, however, see the silver, metallic blur and hear the sound of something whizzing through the air. Next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, gaping stupidly at the ceiling.

He sat up slowly, clutching his pounding head. He opened his eyes to find Alphonse looking torn between amusement and concern, Pinako chortling slightly, and the demented face of someone Edward was sure would drive him to an early grave.

Winry Rockbell stood at the top of the stairs, clad in her work clothes and red bandana. Her face was contorted into a maniacal expression, her long blonde locks stood on end and her blue eyes alight with fury. She breathed heavily through clenched teeth, seething with rage. It was incredible how someone so pretty could be so easily mistaken for a serial killer.

"Well, it's about time!" She spat, brandishing her wrench menacingly. "You just up and disappear for ages, and think you can just suddenly show up and pretend nothing's wrong?! What have you broken this time?!"

Edward groaned inwardly. _'Classic Winry behavior,'_He thought. He leapt spectacularly to his feet.

"Dammit! What's the big idea?! Are you trying to kill me?! And my arm is fine!" He flexed his automail, demonstrating its perfect working order. "For your information, we-"

"Wait," Winry cut him off. She stared firmly at Alphonse, who had been completely silent throughout the bizarre reunion. Winry raised her wrench.

"Who're you?" She snarled.

Alphonse smiled kindly. "Hello, Winry. Still temperamental, I see,"

Winry dropped her wrench. She gaped wide-eyed and open mouthed before stuttering,

"_A-al? Alphonse?!"_

"Uh-huh," He grinned happily.

Winry screamed. She screamed a horrid, high-pitched squeal that reverberated painfully as she flung herself at Alphonse.

Edward flinched. Maybe all Rockbell women had lungs of steel.

Edward and Pinako watched with identical grins as Winry fawned over Alphonse. She hugged him and wiped tears from her eyes, blabbering incoherently. It made Edward sick. Alphonse, clearly not having the slightest idea of how to react, smiled awkwardly and mumbled, _"I missed you too,"_

Edward and Pinako exchanged amused glances as Winry enveloped Alphonse in a bone-snapping death embrace that suspiciously reminded him of Major Armstrong.

"_W-winry…"_ Alphonse rasped.

"_Mmm-Hmm-Mm-Mmm-Hmm?" _She mumbled through sobs.

"_I… I can't breathe," _

She released Alphonse and backed away as he massaged his shoulders where she had bruised them. Winry whirled around unexpectedly, fixing Edward with her infamous Rockbell-death-glare. _"YOU!" _She shrieked, raising the wrench above her head. _"Why didn't you tell me?!"_

"Wha-" Edward cowered, trying in vain to protect himself from the wrench. "What are you talking about?"

"HIM!" She spat venomously, pointing her wrench at Alphonse. "How long has he had his body back?"

"Not long!" Edward shouted. "Just a few weeks-"

For the second time in one day, Winry flung her wrench at Edward with all the strength she could muster.

And for the second time in one day, a certain blonde alchemist found himself gaping stupidly at the ceiling.

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**I'd just like to say that Winry was insanely fun to write. I tried very hard to keep her In-Character, and I hope my efforts have paid off.**

**Please review, flames welcome.**

**Frenchie-chan**


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